


Bad Manners

by Halja



Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: Eavesdropping, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Multi, Open Marriage, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halja/pseuds/Halja
Summary: Stephanie doesn't mean to eavesdrop. Poor guy pays the price of his bad manners anyway.
Relationships: Constanze Weber Mozart/Maria Anna "Nannerl" Mozart, Constanze Weber Mozart/Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart/Antonio Salieri
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Bad Manners

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Banned Together Bingo. Prompt: Sexy Talk.

«I know he liked it! Hell, we all know he liked it! Did you see his _face?_ »

To be fair, Stephanie hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Especially not when his walk through the corridors of the imperial palace, ostensibly meant to clear his head and help him find new inspiration but _actually_ meant to help him get rid of the giddy feeling that wouldn’t leave him since the half catastrophe, half overwhelming success that had been the rehearsals earlier that day, had been interrupted by Mozart and Miss Costanze Weber cutting him off to plunge into the nearest empty room, giggling and leaving the door ajar in their haste and not bothering to look at him even once.

But to be _completely_ fair, Mozart had just spoken rather loudly and there was only one possible subject to his words. Maybe Stephanie didn’t have the right to know Mozart’s private opinions on the court composer, especially those expressed so soon after his arrival at court and in the company of giggling girls in otherwise empty rooms, but he _needed_ to know anything pertaining to his opera. His unconventional, modern, never-seen-before _German_ opera that might be either a game changer or the biggest failure in his career, and had already earned itself the hostility of two of the most important men in the musical world of Vienna.

Well, then, here he was. Eavesdropping and trying to read everything that could be read into Mozart’s excited tone and the frustrated note that marred it, and in Miss Weber’s airy laugh.

«Ah, yes. You have enjoyed looking at his face whenever you could, haven’t you? You must be such a splendid conductor, if you could afford to sneak so many glances at him without getting distracted!» said Miss Weber, teasing.

So, despite his flippant attitude and easy laughter, Mozart had cared about what Salieri thought of their progress, or at least that particular aria. Or maybe he’d just been _that_ determined to repay him for his cold demeanor? Would he try to drag Rosenberg to another rehearsal, to prove to _him_ as well how unfounded his prejudices were and to watch his face fall as he realized just what he was listening to? Stephanie found himself shuddering in both dread and anticipation.

«I’m the _most_ splendid conductor!» Mozart replied, with no heat and just a touch of smugness in it. «And I only looked at him a couple of times.»

«Must have been an _intense_ couple of times, then.»

«I was wondering if he’d make the same faces in bed.»

Mozart laughed. Miss Weber laughed. Stephanie wondered if he’d heard wrong. If he’d misinterpreted the conversation from the very beginning, or was misinterpreting it now. If Mozart’s sense of humor was even more outrageous than he’d shown whenever Rosenberg had turned his back on him that day. He wondered if he’d been caught somehow and if those two were playing a very weird prank on him, and uselessly tried to flatten his back even more against the wall.

Instead of coming out of the room to face him and tease him for his poor manners, Costanze Weber tutted and mock-scolded, «I don’t think you’ll have the opportunity to find out, now. You did laugh him out of the room.»

«Oh, come on, Stanzi! It _was_ fun. One moment he stood there as uptight and _proper_ as can be, and the next he was completely speechless, even breathless… and yet, he tried to act as if nothing had changed at all! Like we couldn’t all _see it._ And _then_ he was talking about how I should just _stay in my place if I didn’t want to have any problems with him._ » Mozart finished his hurried little speech, which knowing him had likely involved a lot of dramatic gesturing, by dropping his voice to a low, somber tone that was _definitely_ meant to be a Salieri impression. Stephanie found himself wishing the two of them would just get out of there and laugh in his face.

«Yes, it was pretty fun,» Costanze Weber agreed. «But if he can’t even admit he likes your music, you think he’ll set his pride aside long enough to shrug off you and you whole cast laughing at him?»

Despite everything, Stephanie thought she had a point, though Mozart huffed and sulkily retorted that it hadn’t been _quite_ the whole cast. Then, after a pause, the girl said, «Well, what do you want me to tell you? That when he told you to stay in your place, he was really wishing that you’d put _him_ in _his_ place? Possibly pressed up against a wall, or bent over a table?»

Stephanie felt heat rising from his neck to spread over his whole face. He also felt a little as if he were choking on the very air he breathed, mostly because of that bit about walls.

«Just because it’s probably true, doesn’t mean it’ll make things any easier.»

Fine, he was actually choking on his own spit, now, but he tried to cough very quietly. Things? Easier? What things? Suddenly, he was a bit worried for Salieri. To think he’d never really liked him much better than Rosenberg…

«Want to bet on it, Stanzi?»

There was a sly smile in Mozart’s voice. Miss Weber giggled again and asked _what_ should they bet in a tone that could only be described as _sultry,_ and Stephanie pushed himself off the wall and fled as discreetly as he managed.

Stephanie had mercifully been able to forget all about that conversation. Sure, for the next few days, he’d had to work hard on holding Mozart’s gaze, and Miss Weber’s when she came to see the rehearsals for the _Serail_ or showed up immediately after to demand a kiss from Mozart, and then Salieri’s whenever they found themselves in the same room and the other man addressed him in that polite yet slightly annoyed manner of his, as if he and his work were just a temporary inconvenience he had to put up with as he went about his day, making the temptation rise in Stephanie to take him aside and see if knowing in what terms Mozart had discussed him would _finally_ break that haughty composure. But then, something had happened between Mozart and his girl, or between Mozart and Miss Weber’s mother, or between all three of them at once, and then just as Mozart and Costanze had resolved their issues with each other and she was back at his side with a smile more radiant than ever and all the details of a wedding to sort through together with her mother and sisters, and Mozart’s music was even better and more inspired than Stephanie had ever heard it, Leopold Mozart had seen fit to express all of his disapproval.

Stephanie knew all that because somehow, at some point, he’d been caught up in the frenzied whirlwind of it. He had sometimes discussed it with Mozart over bottles of wine, and more and more often with Costanze, perhaps even a little more than it was proper between a woman and her future husband’s colleague. But they had been so passionate and lively and so obviously in love with each other, the both of them, that Stephanie couldn’t help but be drawn to them, offer them all his support, and slowly but surely become their friend. And any uncomfortable memory of that one incident melted away in the warmth of their affection.

And then, one day, he decided to take a relaxing walk through the gardens of the imperial palace.

Maybe he should just stop walking anywhere alone.

«Pay up,» Mozart mock-whispered, like he didn’t really care if anyone heard or not – and maybe, he really didn’t – but he was tragically, frustratingly acquainted with the formalities and other trappings of polite society. «Against the wall _and_ over the table. With tied hands and loose hair.»

Stephanie tried to loosen his collar and unbutton his jacket as much as he could without moving too much and accidentally revealing his uncomfortable position, being crouched behind a disappointingly low bush. The air was suddenly very thin again. He tried not to swallow, and would have even tried to get his mouth to stop producing saliva if he could.

Well, he would have tried to _leave,_ if he could. Unfortunately, that would take a lot of awkward crawling in the bushes, and Mr. and Mrs. Mozart might notice all the strange, sudden movement. It wasn’t like the royal palace was full of forest critters, after all. So, he guessed he was stuck until they left first.

Costanze, voice casual and light-hearted yet suffused with a subtle spark of interest, asked: «Oh. You mean him, or me?»

Despite his best effort, Stephanie _did_ choke. But Mozart just said: «Both, of course.» As if it was the most natural thing in the whole world… and for him and his wife, young and beautiful and free as they were, it might be that it was. They both laughed.

Part of Stephanie was considering the idea of just laughing the whole thing off, too, since there was really nothing else he could do about it besides going back to awkwardly trying his best to avoid his friends’ gaze – and in truth, that was now an option that didn’t appeal to him, at all. Ah, well. If you can’t beat them, after all…

«I want to bet on your sister, now. Dear Nannerl is coming to Vienna to visit soon, isn’t she?»

«That she is. But pay up, first!»

«I will pay after you tell me what _her_ proclivities are… deal?»

Stephanie didn’t even waste any time feeling any more confused, or embarrassed. He crawled away as soon as they fell into each other’s arms and on each other’s mouths, and just thanked his luck for that opportunity.

From now on, he’d get Da Ponte to accompany him everywhere, he decided.


End file.
